


better with you

by pendules



Series: redemption [2]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Forgiveness, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Wrestlemania 33, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 09:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10487127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: "Nothing else matters but this, you know?" Seth tells him quietly, because it's the truth. If he can't get the job done on Sunday, then he doesn't even know who he is, who he can be going forward. He needs it, he needs to reclaim himself before he has any hope of getting the rest of it back. Before he can truly look Dean and Roman in the eyes and ask for forgiveness, feel like he deserves it. It's the fight of his life — a fight for his soul. And he can only do it alone. Even if it costs him everything else — his leg, his health, his career.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently every time Seth cuts a promo these days, I think "welp, time to cry and then write fic to deal with all these feelings."
> 
> Sort of a continuation of [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10020221).

He's in the lobby struggling with his crutch and his bags and his own stupid, stubborn decision that he _didn't need any help, dammit_ , when he hears the unmistakable timbre of his voice.

"Need some help?"

His head snaps up immediately, and he's pretty sure he looks like a newborn deer in the headlights, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted, as he takes in the unexpected sight of him. He looks — good. Worn leather jacket and ripped jeans, hair messy and soft-looking, beard thick and lush, blue eyes brighter than they have any right to be. At least there's no pity in them. He just looks at him like _Dean_ looks at him. He just looks like _Dean_. It's probably the most comforting sight he's had in weeks.

" _Oh_. Dean. Hi," is all he says, like an idiot. It feels like his mouth's incapable of forming words into proper sentences at this particular moment in time. They'd talked on the phone a couple times since September, but that was easier, somehow — it was easier to just let the emotion and honesty flood out of him when he didn't have to _look_ at him.

Dean just smirks at him, like he's amused by his uncharacteristic lack of eloquence. "Hey."

"How are you doing?" he manages this time, because that's a normal thing to say, right? Except _nothing_ about their circumstances is normal. He's a _huge_ idiot.

"Pretty good. Can't complain." He shrugs. "What about you?" He doesn't look at his crutch, or at the brace on his knee, just straight into his eyes. Seth's pretty grateful for that. 

"Nothing else matters but this, you know?" Seth tells him quietly, because it's the truth. If he can't get the job done on Sunday, then he doesn't even know who he is, who he can be going forward. He needs it, he needs to reclaim himself before he has any hope of getting the rest of it back. Before he can truly look Dean and Roman in the eyes and ask for forgiveness, feel like he deserves it. It's the fight of his life — a fight for his soul. And he can only do it alone. Even if it costs him everything else — his leg, his health, his career.

Dean just nods, like he gets it completely. "You got this."

Seth manages a ghost of a smile.

They just look at each other for a long moment before Dean says, "Hey, you wanna come up to my room? I got some more press later but we can hang out for a couple hours?"

" _Oh_ ," Seth says, caught off guard by the offer. "Your room?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Get your head out of the gutter, Rollins. I don't put out unless you buy me dinner first. I'm classy like that."

Seth just stares at him incredulously again and Dean gives him a suggestive wink.

"Yeah, okay," he manages to stutter out.

He grabs Seth's bags before he can protest and Seth just shakes his head and follows him to the elevator.

*

Dean drops his bags on the floor of his room and Seth just stands there next to the door awkwardly for a moment, leaning on his crutch, surveying the space before he feels Dean's gaze on him and he can't avoid looking back up at him.

There's something like a question in his eyes, something just meant for him. It's so much softer than all those other times Dean's looked at him, with rage and anguish and desperation, like he was demanding an explanation. Like it was eating away parts of him from the inside. Slowly eating away at his heart.

It's different now, in private, just the two of them with silence and the weight of three whole years in the space between them. He wonders if Dean still wants something from him — he's said the words, had them wrenched out of him in a moment of pure vulnerability, but maybe it's still not enough. He doesn't know if a million _sorry_ s will be enough. 

He thinks about everything he's wanted to say to Dean, over the last few weeks and months and years, if he ever got this chance, and the one that he keeps coming back to is maybe the truest of them all.

"I missed you," he says, barely more than a murmur.

It seems to take him by surprise. His expression shifts, but not into pain or anger, just something like wistfulness. Like longing.

Dean gently takes his crutch away and rests it against the wall before slowly wrapping his arms around him. He lets himself fall into his embrace, their bodies pressed flush against each other, Seth's fingers loosely curling into the soft fabric of the t-shirt under his jacket. He closes his eyes, buries his face into his collarbone, breathes in the scent of leather and soap and _Dean_. It's the first true moment of peace he's had in months; it's easy to forget about his battered, wrecked knee; it's hard to even imagine what awaits him in just a few short days.

They pull away, eyes locked on each other, and before Seth can stop himself, he leans back in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Dean's lips.

Dean just blinks at him, body going stiff, and he pulls back just as quickly, realising he probably just made a huge mistake. He extricates himself from Dean, his touch, his warmth, his smell, reaches for his crutch, muttering, "Sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have —"

He's grasping the doorknob when Dean seems to have finally processed what just happened and he reaches out and grabs his wrist to pull him back in. 

His crutch crashes to the floor. His apologies get lost on Dean's lips. 

He gasps against Dean's mouth as Dean threads his fingers into his hair, guiding him even closer, chests and hips pressed together, supporting his weight as he kisses him like a drowning man, long and deep and hard enough to bruise.

Seth's panting when Dean pulls away, breaking the spell almost abruptly even if it feels like it's been hours. He thinks he would gladly spend the rest of his earthly days kissing Dean like this. It's a thought that would've scared the shit out of him three years ago, but now it just makes him feel warm and content inside.

Dean just touches their foreheads together, eyes still closed, taking deep breaths, a dazed half-smile on his lips.

"You okay?" Seth asks eventually, still wary.

Dean laughs under his breath. "Nah, it's fine, I'm just exhausted, man."

"Oh, you want me to —?"

"No, no, it's all good. You can stay. Just — _stay_ , okay?" Dean's eyes are open now, almost imploring. He reaches for Seth's hand and just gently squeezes it before letting go.

"Yeah, sure," Seth says at once.

Dean helps him over to the bed before collapsing on his stomach on the other side of it. He turns onto his left side, ostensibly to find a comfortable position for his leg, but actually to keep looking at Dean. There's still a crazy part of him that's convinced that this is all just a really good dream and that he's going to disappear at any moment.

"Just relax," Dean tells him, words muffled into a pillow.

Seth nods even though his eyes are closed.

Seth just stares at his face, mouth slack and skin smooth, and listens to his breathing until he falls asleep and well after.

*

He's still looking when Dean's eyelids flutter open a few hours later and he doesn't try to hide it.

Dean just yawns and runs a hand over his face, through his hair, before turning on his side to blink up at Seth. "I miss the blonde," he says, groggily, voice rough.

Seth just smiles indulgently, remembering how Dean gets all sappy and unfiltered when he's half-asleep. He missed that too. "Mm," he agrees.

"What are you thinking about in that big ol' brain of yours?" Dean asks, propping his head up on his elbow.

" _You_ ," Seth tells him, because he's done lying to Dean, to himself, to everyone.

"Yeah?" Dean says, raising an eyebrow. "What about me?"

"You should hate me," Seth breathes.

Dean considers that for a few moments, expression going serious. "I _did_. I hated you for a long time," he admits. "But it didn't do anyone a lick of good."

"You really don't anymore?" Seth asks, feeling a fragile sense of hope.

Dean shakes his head. "Everyone does shitty things," he says, like it's that simple.

"Yeah, but I broke this — broke _us_."

"I think everyone deserves forgiveness too."

"I don't know if I do," Seth says honestly. "But I'm trying. I _want_ to try."

"Well, that's good enough, then."

"I meant it, you know. I missed you. I missed — _this_." He knows that Dean knows what he means — sharing a bed in hotel rooms up and down the country, having inane whispered conversations in the dark at all hours of the morning with Roman fast asleep across the room. Dreams and confessions and stories and jokes and shared muffled laughter and Seth always, always wondering what would happen if he moved closer, fitted their bodies tight together, touched him, kissed him, or just pressed his fingertips against Dean's —

Dean just holds his gaze, a tender look in his eyes, before reaching out and resting his hand on top of Seth's.

"I thought I had to destroy this to become someone else — someone better. But I was wrong."

Seth closes his eyes, exhales, before intertwining their fingers in the space between them and meeting Dean's eyes again.

"I was a better person with you," Seth tells him softly.

"You could still be that person," Dean says, like it's an absolute truth.

"Yeah?" Seth asks, searching his face for the reassurance he needs.

"Yeah," Dean says, and Seth lets himself truly believe it for the first time, lets the promise of it sink down into his bones.


End file.
